


That's Us

by true_heroes



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bittersweet Ending, First Kiss, I just hope you enjoy it, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, and, and more kisses, but in the end theres also fluff, comparable to the forest scene in the canon but with more introspection, like angstier than I meant it to be, pretty angsty, so maybe more triggering?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-04 21:29:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10999365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/true_heroes/pseuds/true_heroes
Summary: Eight year without the Veil and the kidnapping by the numpties. This leads to the battle between the Mage's Men and the Old Families to happen before the Humdrum has been defeated. After the battle and all that happened during it, Simon returns to Watford and faces Baz. They were always doomed to lose everything, but maybe something can be won?





	1. Chapter 1: You rarely seek what you find

**Author's Note:**

> Heyhi! So I worked on this whole thing for more than six months. There will probably be five chapters.  
> This whole thing is based on a Dutch song called "De Mooiste Verliezers" by a band called Bløf: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zwK3n09hSFg. To me, it's one of the prettiest songs in existence. If any of you are interested I could add a chapter at the end with a rough translation of the lyrics. Just let me know in the comments!
> 
> Since there's a lot of time-jumps happening. I'll just summarise the structures of the chapters:  
> Chapter 1: Now - Before  
> Chapter 2: Now - During  
> Chapter 3: Aftermath  
> Chapter 4: Now  
> Epilogue: Now

#### Now

##### Baz

I don’t smell him. A few months ago, I would’ve known he was there even before I’d reached the bottom of the stairs up to our room. The prickly scent of fire would have made my stomach twist with nausea and my heart flip with excitement.

This time there’s none of that. No fire. No static in the air caused by the constant threat of Simon’s magic overflowing. There’s just nothing.

Which is the reason that, after dinner (real dinner, I mean. Not my kind of dinner), when I climb the stairs to the room at the top of Mummer’s House I once shared with a boy who had more moles on his face than true friends in his life (not that I have more, but hey, I owe up to how pathetic my social life is), I do not for one second expect that exact boy to be there, waiting for me.

Well… he’s probably not really waiting for me. If anything, he is just sitting there. At the end of what used to be his bed, staring at the wall. It’s completely dark inside, with only a bit of moonlight streaming in through the opened window (I couldn’t bring myself to close it after everything), getting tangled between the twists and turns of his curls. (Crowley, he’s back in my life for not even ten seconds and I’ve already turned back into the massive sap I used to be.)

The moment I see him, I freeze. If I’d sensed him before I could’ve made up some stupid snarky comment about how he must surely have lost his way since he does not belong here anymore after losing his magic, but I am so caught off guard that I can’t. Or maybe I wouldn’t have been able to anyway. I cannot break him any further.

So, I just stand frozen in the doorpost, waiting for him to notice my presence. He seems just as frozen, but in time. As if the world could catch fire and he would just keep staring at the wall while the gold of the fire would fight with the silver of the moon over who gets to light those pretty curls. And I’d be standing here watching, helpless. 

Through the darkness I can see the hollow look on his face. As if the thoughts that must be clogging his mind emptied out the life in his eyes. 

And then it’s just too much to see him like this. I need him to smile or to sneer or to yell at me. I need him to snap out of it. 

I cough softly to draw his attention to me and he starts. His eyes meet mine. In that moment, it’s like I can see every possible emotion flashing through them and I feel my shoulders relax just the slightest bit.

“Baz.”

#### Before

##### Simon

The fucking git has been staring at me for hours on end now. Plotting, probably. Usually I can deal with this fine by just scowling back at him or starting useless fights, but tonight I can’t seem to shake him off. Which is not really something I can use right now when I’m already jittery and nervous for tomorrow. 

You see, we (or the Mage and his men really) have been planning an attack on the Old Families for weeks, maybe even months, now. The thing is that on a reconnaissance mission of Penny and I we also found out that the Old Families had been planning an attack… on the same day. 

Which actually sounds like a ridiculous coincidence and we were one hundred percent convinced that the Old Families must have known about our attack. However, after a bit of extra spying and prying at Baz it turned out they actually don’t. Which the Mage, of course, saw as a great advantage for us, but it made it even more important for me and Penny to act like nothing was happening.

So, now here I am in my own room (well the one I share with Baz, of course) pretending I don’t know that there will be a fight tomorrow, pretending I don’t know that Baz is pretending he doesn’t know there will be a fight tomorrow. Look, there’s a lot of pretending going on and usually I’m already shit with lying, but with Baz constantly brooding at me there is even less I can do about the electricity that I feel slowly creeping to my fingertips.

##### Baz

I can actually feel my hair lifting slightly due to the static in the air. I sneer at Snow, who tries to scowl back, but it completely falls flat. He’s wearing that face that says I-have-something-to-hide-but-I-know-I-can’t-hide-anything-so-please-just-don’t-look-at-me-and-let-me-disappear, which of course makes it all the more fun to keep staring at him. Even more so because I know exactly what he is hiding. Even more so because I know this will be my last chance to memorise as much about him as I can and I am too tired to deny myself it. 

So, I memorise the way his curls seem to be rioting against gravity. I memorise the exact coordinates of the moles spread over the side of his face and neck facing me. I memorise the small dimples that randomly appear in his cheeks, even when he isn’t smiling.

I know that I won’t have to memorise the blue of his eyes, because he will be the one to end me and they will be the last thing I see. I do try to memorise his hands, though. They will be the ones to hold the wand. Steady and determined. I try to memorise how those hands are always moving. Always fidgeting, always tugging on shirts and sleeves, always tapping pens. As if his magic is directing his fingertips. And tonight, it’s reached an all-time high. Just like my self-control seems to have reached an all-time low.

I sneer at him. “Crowley, Snow, shouldn’t you be saving your magic for the big fight tomorrow?” 

I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone turn that white this fast. The fidgeting stops, but now it’s his voice that keeps shaking as he tries to talk himself out of this one.

“I-I… Th-that’s no-… What are y-“ 

“Use your words, Snow.” I interrupt him irritated. He shoots me an annoyed glare, but takes a deep breath before managing an actual sentence out of his (beautiful) mouth.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

I roll my eyes. “We know that you’re planning an attack, and you know that we’re planning an attack, and now we know that we know, so just relax for a second.”

He chokes back a gasp, but I can feel his magic subside just the slightest bit. He keeps staring ahead, refusing to meet my eyes, so I lean back against my headboard. I refuse to look away, though. 

And that’s how we stay for what feels like hours. Snow, just staring straight forward, his magic slowly but steadily calming down. Me, just memorising every bit of him. The air around us feels heavy and light at the same time. As if the acknowledgement of what is about to happen once the sun comes up has lifted the weight of secrets of our backs, but then replaced it with the burden of knowing that this will be the last time of everything. This is going to truly be the end. 

At last, Snow turns his head to look back at me. There’s a sad smile on his lips.

“At least, I finally got to prove Penny that you were actually plotting.” 

It sounds slightly bitter, but I can’t help but let out a surprised chuckle. 

“Bunce must’ve had a field day.” He turns away again, leaning his head against the headboard to stare at the ceiling.

“Yeah,” there’s a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. I don’t think there’s a friendship purer than theirs. “I didn’t let her hear the end of it for months.”

I can’t help but smile, too, at that. It’s never really been a secret that Snow wouldn’t talk about much else than my plotting against him, if Bunce let him. 

“Is she coming, too, tomorrow?” 

“Yes.” He sighs. Definitely not happy about that, apparently. 

“And Wellbelove?” 

“Nah,” Not too happy about that either for some reason. “I guess she’s never really been a fan of the whole putting-your-life-on-the-line-for-doing-what’s-right thing.”

“For the sake of a last peaceful night I’m not going to go in on the part where you think you’re doing what’s right.” 

He actually growls at me. I roll my eyes. A moment of silence returns, before Snow turns to face me again. 

“If we don’t have to keep this battle a secret anymore, how do I know you won’t take me out in my sleep?” 

“You don’t." I tell him. "But we have the same reason not to kill the other tonight.”

He raises an eyebrow in wonder.

“That reason being?”

“We both want an audience.” 

I don’t tell him I won’t kill him tonight, because I won’t ever kill him. Not tonight, not tomorrow. Not when he’s vulnerable enough, not when’s about to off me. I figure that would kill me more than if his fire were to finally set me ablaze. 

“So tonight we’re on a truce?” 

“Sure, whatever you want, Snow.” He lets out an annoyed sigh at my dismissing approval, but a mischievous smile starts to play on his lips. Oh no.

“Does that mean I can finally get you to admit to all your crimes?! You know, like some sort of end-of-the-world party? Confess all your sins last-minute as if that might save you from going to hell.” 

What.

“Two people in a dorm without any alcohol, sharing secrets, hardly counts as a party, Snow.”

“So you’re not denying the crimes-part!” He states as if he’s actually outsmarted me and I roll my eyes. 

“I’m not even going to answer that.” 

He shrugs. “Well, then at least tell me whether you’ve been stealing my mint aero bars the past eight years.”

“Stealing is a crime so I’m not actually answering that.” _I didn’t steal his ridiculous chocolate. His mind just can’t keep up with the speed at which he eats._ (and I might have stolen a few… but just a few!)

“Well, you didn’t have any problem stealing my girlfriend.” He says and I scoff. Merlin, he can be so predictable. It always comes back to goddamn Wellbelove.

“Yeah, sure, I stole the _love of your life_ ,” I huff, “Your oh so Happy Ending.” 

This has him pushing himself off the headboard, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to properly face me. His blue eyes are razor sharp and filled with rage. And just like that the air has shifted back to its usual heaviness. His magic starts building up again. I lift an eyebrow.

“What’s it to you?” He growls. 

“What is Wellbelove to me?” I feel myself rising too. Snow’s obliviousness has been my one salvation, but, Merlin, it can get so frustrating. 

“Yes, Baz. What is my girlfriend to you?” His hand is twisted in his sheets to restrain himself.

“Your ex-girlfriend,” I start to say and I know that this situation is going to escalate. I can’t stop myself. “means absolutely nothing to me but a way to get to you.”

And I know that it is cruel to use her like that. But I rarely do things that are morally acceptable. It’d be better for all of us if Snow just rids the world of me tomorrow.

“How can you say that?” Snow is seething. He has gotten up to his feet, looming over me. His curls seem to be even puffier under the static in the air. “How can you do that?” 

I rise to my feet to face him.

“Because I don’t care about her. Because she is going to get through all this. Because while we’re out fighting to the death, she will be sitting nice and cosy in her dorm waiting to see which of her prince charmings will make it out alive to come pick her up and ride off into the sunset with her.

“Because she is not my happy ending. Because she is not _your_ happy ending. Because you have this sick idea in your head that you are going to get a happy ending. Spoiler alert, Snow, you’re not. Neither of us are. Can’t you just get that through your thick skull?”

Now it’s me that is looming over him, but his gaze doesn’t give an inch.

“How can you say that?” I am surprised by the curiosity that is peeking out underneath the fury. “Why are we even doing this then? How can you say that neither of us is going to get out of this alive?”

There’s frustration in his eyes. And so much confusion. He really doesn’t get it. I take a small step out of his space, so that my position isn’t as hostile anymore. I just want him to get it.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” The increase of confusion in his eyes tells me no and I sigh. “This is not our fight, Snow. This is the Mage against the Old Families,”

He huffs at that and I roll my eyes.

“Or the Old Families against the Mage, it really doesn’t even matter. The point is that this is not our war, but for some reasons we are going to be the ones to fight it. Because, let’s face it, it doesn’t matter what the Mage’s Men will be doing tomorrow or what the other mages of the Old Families are going to be doing. It’s going to be you and me fighting a war that isn’t ours. And that is why we are both the losers of this game. We’re both going to lose.” 

Snow is silent for a few seconds, but then shakes his head slowly. “How can you say that this is npt our war? This is a war between right and wrong and I am sure as hell going to fight for what I think is right.”

“You’re fighting for what the Mage has led you to believe what’s right. All he has been doing your entire life is manipulating you into thinking the same as him and now he’s going to use your gifts to fight his battles for him.”

“Stop.” His voice is almost too small for me to register. It doesn’t stop me.

“He is putting your life on the line for his own battles. How many times have you been given the choice to deny his quests? Did he ever assist you on any of them? Has he ever given you anything in return for your ‘help’?”

“Stop.” His voice is steadier now, more insistent. It’s not enough to stop me.

“So just imagine a scenario in which you manage to off me tomorrow and ‘win’ the battle. Imagine a scenario in which you also manage to defeat the Humdrum, once that battle has arrived. Do you really think you’ll get to disappear with our lovely princess Wellbelove? Do you really think that the Mage will stop sending you on life-threatening quests? Do you really think he will ever give a shit about you?”

“STOP.” I can’t.

“He won’t. He’s going to put your life on the line again and again and again. And no matter if you win this battle and the next one and the next one and the next one, you are always going to be the loser. Because there will be no ending. It is never going to stop. You will never be left in peace and you are never going to be happy. So, stop pretending that either of us are going to win this. We’re both the losers of this game. You. Are. Going. To. L-“

“STOP!” 

And then his hand is covering my mouth, muffling the rest of my words. His eyes grow big and we both hold still for a few seconds to see whether the Anathema saw this act as too violent. Apparently not. 

My breathing is ragged underneath Snow’s palm and I regret having spoken so many words so fast. And then I regret having spoken those words at all. 

We stand like that for what feels like hours. Snow’s hand covering my mouth, eyes locked in a battle to see who chickens out first. There must be more regret in my eyes than I would like to show. There is more pain in his eyes than he would probably want to show.

Then he releases me, taking a step back. It feels like victory (or as close as it can get when you’re in my position), until he opens his mouth again.

“You said that neither of us would win,” Shit. “Why are you losing?” 

I can’t answer that. I could never answer that. So, I grind my teeth, keeping my mouth shut, while holding his gaze. Fury and pain are still exploding from his eyes. There is so much challenge in them and I know why the second he opens his mouth again. He sounds so bitter. He’s going to go for the low blow.

“Is it because you will always be a bloodsucking vampire?” Too far. “Aren’t you going to enjoy finally getting to suck the blood out of my lifeless body once you rid the world of me?”

I don’t know if it’s the vampire thing that is the final straw or his insistent belief that I am forever out to hurt him, that his death will only bring me joy. Before I know it, I have him shoved against the nearest wall, my fist already pulled back.

“ANATHEMA!” He manages to scream just in time. My fist freezes mid-air, however, I keep him pushed up against the wall. Both of us are panting with rage, Simon’s magic seeming to take up the oxygen in the room. He opens his mouth to speak again, but I grab his collar and give him another push into the wall.

“Don’t.” I grit between my teeth. I just want him to shut up. He cannot drag this out of me. Not tonight. Not ever.

We stand like that for what feels like ages. My left hand twisted in his collar, while the other is grabbing his shirt at chest height. Together they’re holding him steadily pushed to the wall. His hands, on the other hand, are still. Any resistance that might have shown in his body seems to have collected in his eyes, still holding mine with a challenging look. I realise too late that he is not going to back down.

“You said,” his voice is steady, but vicious. “that neither of us was going to get a happy ending.”

_Stop._

“You said that neither of us was going to win.”

_Stop._

“You said that both of us are going to be the losers of this war. No matter the outcome.”

I give him another shove, but there’s not an ounce of strength behind it.

“You spent an entire monologue on why I am never going to get my happy ending.”

Shutupshutupshutup.

“So I deserve an answer.”

_No._

“Why. Are. You. Losing.”

 _Because, yes, I will forever be a bloodsucking vampire_ , I don’t say. I cannot look away from his eyes. But I want to. Crowley, I want to. I vaguely register tears pushing their way through, seeming to blur everything but Simon Snow.

“Why.”

 _Because my mother is dead and my father hates me_ , I don’t say. His eyes are scanning every inch of my face, looking for a sign that will show the reasons for my tragedy. They rest, for a second, on the tears streaming down my face and I can’t tell what he is thinking.

“Are.”

 _Because I am going to live forever and I will watch everyone I may ever care about die_ , I don’t say. His eyes settle back on mine. The rage in them has nearly disappeared. As if all he’s trying to do is figure me out. Curiosity in its purest form. I cannot let him. I need to look away from him. I can’t.

“You.”

 _Because I am in love with you and if my family wins, you will die_. His eyes are piercing into mine. They’re trying to take me apart. As if he’s trying to unmask me piece by piece so he can rearrange the puzzle and create the picture that is really me. I need to look away.

I do.

My eyes shift to his lips and I feel myself leaning just the slightest bit closer. Would it really be that bad? To just kiss him right here and now? Tomorrow either one of us is going to die. This would be my last chance. Maybe I could reason myself into it, claiming it’s a way to shut him up. Released from the fierce grip of his eyes, I am now completely captivated by his lips. I cannot do this. I cannot kiss him. But I want to. Aleister Crowley, I want to.

I lean closer. I can feel his breath. So close.

“Losing.”

It’s barely a whisper.

_Because I am in love with you and if my family wins, you die and I don’t know if I can handle that because you are my family and I love you. Crowley, I love you so much._

I don’t say, but I pull him closer and closer. So close.

If I just moved my head down the slightest bit, I’d be kissing him. Finally.

I’d kiss him and then I’d flee the room to wait in the catacombs for the sun to show its face to watch our final battle.

I’d kiss him and I’d know what I’m going to miss for the rest of my life. However long that life may be.

If I just moved my head down the slightest bit, I’d be kissing him.

I force my eyes to leave his lips and lift them to meet his eyes. There are so many emotions in the blue, I get overwhelmed. There’s curiosity. There’s genuine concern. There’s confusion. So much confusion.

I can also see that remaining anger. I can see fright for what is about to come tomorrow. But mostly I see confusion as his eyes flicker between mine and my lips.

I see so many emotions, but I don’t see rejection.

It occurs to me that if I’d kiss him, he might let me. Maybe he’d even kiss me back.

I pull him closer and closer. So close.

I can feel his breath on my lips, the tip of his nose softly bumping into mine. I try to keep his gaze locked in mine, but I can see his eyelids slowly closing as his hand twists in my shirt, pulling softly.

I realise that if I kiss him, he will kiss me back. I get to kiss my archenemy the night before our final battle. Crowley, I am living a charmed life. I just need to close the final inches. Lean just a little bit closer.

Closer.

Closer.

So Close.

Snow’s pull on my shirt strengthens, urging me forward. He’s so close. Just a breath away.

I take that one breath.

And as I release it, I release my grip on him.

I let go of his collar. I let go of his shirt. I let go of his eyes and of his lips.

I take a step away. And then another and another and another. I turn around and walk back to my bed. I lie down with my back facing his bed. I close my eyes and will my heart to lower its pace. I never cry, but just this once I allow one single tear to slip away. So close. But it wasn’t fair on either of us. Not now. Not ever.

It may be a minute or ten minutes or maybe an hour before I hear Snow get back to moving. I feel him loom over me for a second. As if he doesn’t know that he should let me be. That he should just go to sleep to get some rest before the big day tomorrow. As if he doesn’t know that if he would touch me now or call my name, I wouldn’t hesitate to tackle him and kiss him senseless.

Or maybe he does know. Because, after a few seconds I can hear a small, frustrated sigh and his ever-clumsy feet slouching back to his side of the room. I hear him drop himself on the bed.

And just as I feel sleep finally taking me away from this room, I hear his voice, barely a whisper.

“Goodnight, Baz.”

And I can’t stop myself from whispering back.

“Goodnight, Simon.”


	2. Chapter Two: That You'll Be Left With Nothing, Is A Cold Certainty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The now and the battle.

#### Now

##### Simon

I shouldn’t be here. Why did I ever think this was a good idea? Why did I ever think coming back to Watford wouldn’t tear me apart? I guess I’ve never been the best decision-maker.

I haven’t seen anyone I know yet. Or well, not anyone that I know very well. I saw Niall somewhere in the halls, but he just averted his eyes and pretended I wasn’t there. I guess that has been the reaction of most students I saw. They don’t know what to do with me anymore. What do you do with someone who lost their magic on a school for magic?

I skipped past Rhys and Gareth’s room as fast as I could. I couldn’t face them. I have no idea where Agatha is, so I haven’t seen her either. Penny told me she’d kind of disappeared off the face of the earth. She’d sent one text telling us not to worry about her and a picture of a dog neither of us had ever seen before.

I haven’t seen Penny yet either, but that’s okay. She has arranged to come home every weekend. Any sane headmaster would have granted her the permission to go home during the weekend after everything that had happened, but her mother now being the headmaster also definitely helped with that arrangement. 

She offered to help me, when I told her I wanted to go back to Watford myself. I considered taking her up on her offer for a moment. I knew it would be one of the hardest moments in my life and her presence always helped to ground me. In the end, though, I denied her help. This is something I need to do on my own. I need to finish this chapter of my life on my own.

Or maybe not completely on my own. 

I started my time here with Baz and I never got the chance to finish it with him. So maybe officially I’m here to get the rest of my stuff before the end of the school year. But maybe I’m really just here to talk to Baz. I’m not sure I know how to, though. We’ve been enemies for almost eight years. We never actually talked, we just yelled at each other.  
The last time we were in this room, we tried. Talking, that is. In the end, it still turned into yelling and pushing and… almost confessing. At least, I think that’s what was happening. I figure that by now I can kind of imagine the reasons Baz thinks he’ll always lose. At least, some of them.

There are still so many things left unsaid. Maybe we’ll never say them, but I owe him something more. More than… I don’t know. Just… more. Because that’s what I want from him, too. More.

So here I am sitting at the end of my old bed. I haven’t packed anything yet. I can’t. I have just been staring at the wall, tuning all my thoughts out.

Magic is something that, when you possess it, fills all your senses constantly. You don’t even consciously realise that, until it’s gone. When you lose your magic, you stop smelling it. You stop seeing it. You stop feeling it. You stop tasting it. It’s easy to ignore when I’m out for a walk. I tend to go just anywhere that isn’t home. Penny’s home. They took me in after the final battle, but it’s been killing me. Knowing that there is magic in the room, but that I just can’t register it in any way.

At Watford, it’s even worse. This was the place I returned to after each endless summer to finally feel the magic all around me again. The magic I pretended didn’t exist during those summers. Just so that I wouldn’t miss it that much. This was the place where the realness of magic came back to life. It burst through the walls. It sizzled in the air. I always loved that feeling.

Now there’s nothing. I can’t smell it. I can’t see it. I can’t feel it. I can’t taste it.

So, I just sit there at the end of my bed, staring at the wall. And I try to tune all my thoughts down. I try to put every fibre of my (admittedly shitty) concentration on my senses. On trying to smell, see, feel, taste the magic that must be in the air. I try to grasp at the smallest signs of magic, but I know that it’s just my mind playing tricks with me. I know that it’s my mind presenting me memories of what it used to smell, look, feel, look, taste like. I spent so many years in this room with Baz that I know that I have every detail of his magic memorised and at moments like this the senses feel tangible. But I know that it’s just my mind shoving in my face what I can never truly experience again.

And that is how I sit there at the end of my bed. Staring at the wall, trying to make the distinction between reality and a reflection of a memory.

It’s a quiet cough that rips me out of my frozen state.

I look up and suddenly all my senses come back to me. Not the ones that used to register magic, but the ones that smell the cedar and bergamot in the air. The ones that see the familiar grey eyes and pitch black locks. The ones that feel my pulse quicken. The ones that taste his name on my tongue.

“Baz.”

#### During

##### Baz

We’re holding back. 

I had been right all along. This was a war that was going to be fought by Snow and me. Sure, there was plenty of fighting going on around us. Plenty of victims have fallen. However, you could feel the unspoken rule that no one was allowed to touch us but us. At least… for now.

Because we’re holding back. 

And the longer we’re holding back the higher the pressure is getting. My father keeps yelling at me in between casting spells and I can see the Mage passionately arguing with Simon. 

I don’t know why Snow is holding back. I can’t imagine he would pass up this opportunity to finally end me. I think I clearly gave a sign that I wouldn’t be fighting back. Not really, at least. 

It’s not just that I can’t kill him because I love him too much. In this war, everybody seems to have forgotten all about the Insidious Humdrum. If I kill Snow today, that would mean we wouldn’t have a Chosen One to beat the Humdrum anymore. 

Plenty of mages have stopped believing in him as the one to save us all and I can’t really blame them; he is still unable to perform the simplest spells and has no control whatsoever in really just anything he does. How could he be the one to save us from the biggest threat our world has yet faced?

Yet I can’t help but believe that he has to be the one to save us. Why else would he have so much power? And maybe there’s a bit of gut feeling too. Or maybe that’s just my infatuated self making excuses as to not just kill him here on the spot. But I know I believe he is the only one who can beat the Humdrum.

So, I’m holding back.

##### Simon

I’m holding back.

And the Mage is not liking it one bit. He just keeps yelling and yelling at me to fight harder. To _just_ kill Baz. 

It used to sound so easy. _Just_ kill the guy who has been tormenting you for the past seven and a half years. _Just_ kill the guy who is most definitely a vampire and has probably been out to eat you for the past seven and a half years. _Just_ kill the guy with whom you shared a room and, in your own way, a life for the past seven and a half years.

“ _Just_ kill him.” 

I can’t. I don’t why I can’t, really. Maybe because of what he said last night or maybe because of what happened after. Maybe because this entire fight seems pointless in the face of the Humdrum. Or maybe it’s because I really don’t hate Baz that much. Okay, no, I do hate him. Just not enough to _just_ kill him. 

So, I’m holding back.

But Baz is holding back too and I don’t know why. It’s like he’s trying to say he’s not going to fight back. Not really, at least. And I wonder whether he means that he will just let himself be killed or whether he refuses to be just a weapon in someone else’s war. 

“Simon, c’mon! You know the spells, so use them!” 

Or maybe he’s just mocking me. Mocking me and my sad ending and how I won’t even put up a real fight (how I probably wouldn’t even be able to), so why should he. He could kill me with a simple flick of his wand but he’s just dragging it out so that the world can really see what an awful excuse for a Chosen One I really am.

“Simon, we need you to win this!” 

I scan the rest of the battle from the corners or my eye. The Mage is right. The Mage’s Men are on the losing hand. They need me to finish this. I need to turn the tide. By _just_ killing Baz. I return my focus on him. 

“Just think about all the things he has done to you!” 

I keep my focus on Baz while I let the Mage’s words flood in. I stop fighting them. I push just the slightest bit harder.

“Yes! Keep going, Simon. Just think about all those times he hurt you.” 

I push a bit harder. Baz doesn’t push back.

“Think about the time he almost fed you to a chimera.” 

I vaguely register that I’m surprised the Mage even remembered that. It’s not like he cared right after it actually happened. Then, I block the thought and push harder. Baz doesn’t push back. 

“You remember that time he pushed you of the stairs, right?"

And I push harder. I notice more and more people pausing their fights to see this play out. To see me pushing harder and harder. And Baz… Baz giving up. Fight back, I try to tell him. I don’t know why. 

I keep imagining him standing up to me. Putting up a real fight. Killing me, because he can. He is so much better than I am. I’m the one who smells like smoke, but he’ll always be the one on fire when he’s fighting. Not the real thing, because that would obviously kill him. No, his entire being seems to be flaming. His posture and the sharpened edges of his face filled with this endless determination to win. The grip on his wand deliberate and strong. Wild, but controlled.

His eyes are always the most powerful of all, though. When he’s fighting, they are so full of perseverance and confidence. I am going to win this battle, is all they seem to say. I’m pretty sure it’s the most frightening thing about him and has any enemy feel ready to start drafting their will.

Right now, there’s none of that. His posture is lousy. His movements lack their usual precision. The muscles in his face have been forced into a bored expression. It’s as if he is still completely unbothered by me stepping my game up. As if he couldn’t care less. At least, that’s what he’s obviously trying to make people think.

“Come on, Simon, you’re gaining ground. Just a little more.” 

His eyes are what terrify me. Not because they carry the usual conviction of his inevitable victory, but because that’s what they lack. The only thing I can see in them is resignation. Resignation and a lifetime of sadness. 

_Fight back_ , I want to yell at him. 

And suddenly I’m so angry at him for not fighting back and I don’t know why. I feel my magic rising through my skin, spreading all over me. 

I push harder.

My hits get closer and closer to Baz. He doesn’t give ground, but he doesn’t rise his defence either, so every lick of flames that I send towards him gets a little bit closer before he manages to fend it off. 

_Fight back_ , I want to yell at him.

And my anger rises and rises as images flood my mind. All his sneers and his raised eyebrows. That time he pushed me off the stairs. The time he tried to feed me to a chimera.

 _Fight back_ , I want to yell at him.

And my anger rises as I remember all those times I was already at the bottom and he needed to just give me another kick. A snarky comment when I messed something up again. An evil smirk when I couldn’t find my words.

 _Fight back_ , I want to yell at him. 

But what’s angered me the most is his complete control. He’d say the worst of things with the clearest face. He’d push me against a wall and I’d be shaking with anger, while his hands were perfectly still. 

I think that’s what bothered me last night, but also gave me the confidence to push him further. I’d never seen him lose control that way. I’d never seen him so emotional. I’d never seen his body so beyond his command. I’d never seen him speak so honestly.

I’d never seen him so close to completely letting go. To completely losing control. I wanted him to. So badly. I didn’t know what it would mean or what would happen, but in that moment, he was so close to human. So close to me. 

And I tried to pull at him. To give him that last nudge. To have him drop all his masks and show the truth. And just as I was this close to getting to him, he let go. Of me. And he regained all his control. His hands stopped trembling. His face pulled itself back into its usual bored and mean look.  
The only remainder of his outburst lay in his eyes. This sad look of resignation. 

And this is what he carries with him now, too. This complete control in his body and face, mixed with the heart-breaking look in his eyes. And it makes me so mad. It makes me so mad that even in his desperation, in this decision to let himself be killed he still manages to have complete control. It makes me mad that his gaze tells me that this is not some kind of break down. This isn’t spontaneous. This is completely deliberate.

I’m mad because this is _his_ decision. He has made the decision to let himself be killed. To give up his life for whatever reason. And my anger rises and rises at how little regard he has for himself. I feel my magic pushing at the edges of my skin at the thought of him thinking that him dying is excusable in any way.

He isn’t fighting back and I feel my magic spilling knowing he has given up on himself and his own worth in this world.

“FIGHT BACK!”, I yell. 

I fire.

And I know that I went too far.

I stopped holding back.

##### Baz

“FIGHT BACK!”, Snow yells. 

And I know this is it. 

He stopped holding back. 

It had been coming and I knew it. I don’t know what convinced him, probably The Mage, but he started pushing more and more.

My survival instinct told me to fight back, but I did the right thing. I showed him I won’t fight him. I won’t.

And now that I can see the string of flames he’s sent my way, I stand down.

I let my arms fall to my sides and let the flames come closer.

I stand down and hold his shocked gaze.

Because this is what I promised myself. 

I promised myself this one thing:

to die looking into Simon’s eyes for one last time.

##### Simon

As a string of fire leaves my wand and nears Baz at an alarming rate, his eyes find mine.

For a second, I can do nothing but stare back at him. It’s like his eyes show me everything. They’re just as honest as a few seconds ago, but different all the same. Now, there is serenity in them. He has let go and doesn’t seem bothered by the flames getting closer to him. There is also focus. He is completely focussed on me. As if he is blocking every single thing around and inside him, just to keep his attention on me. 

It’s as if he’s trying to tell me something. Just with this one look. He’s not planning on letting my gaze go until his point has gotten across and I don’t know why. 

I focus on him and pull apart any and every emotion that I can find in his eyes. With each one I know that I’m getting closer and closer to the truth. 

The moment I’ve shed all the layers and find the core, I realise that I’ve never wanted to do this. I’ve never wanted to kill Baz. Yes, I’ve been annoyed by him and I’ve wanted him gone for so many times. But nothing this permanent. Not like this. I need him. I can’t just kill him.

But in the seconds it has taken me to feel this, my spell has gotten closer to him. Four feet. Three feet. Two feet. 

Inches.

“BAZ!”, I choke out as tears blur the vision of the flames closing in on him. 

I try to pull everything back. I know it’s an act of panic and that it won’t work. I try anyway. I imagine the fire being a thread that I can pull back. And I pull and pull and pull as the thread seems to spill through my fingers. Away from me. 

And just as I think that it’s over. Just as I think that I’ve lost all control and that my ‘enemy’ will go up in flames, there’s an explosion of light.

And I know that it’s over. 

I know now that, apparently, vampires burning up give this enormous explosion of light.

I know that this is it and I let myself fall to my knees.

It’s over.

##### Baz

I see an explosion of light and I know that it’s over. Apparently, this is what happens when you set a vampire on fire. An unnecessary amount of light and then nothing. A bit of dust probably. Burned to the ground. 

Except I don’t feel it. 

I don’t feel flames eating away at my skin. I can see the light, but it doesn’t touch me. I don’t burn to the ground. 

And when the light fades again, there is no dust. I’m still all flesh and bones. Sure, a few scratches, but nothing more.

And when the light fades again I can see Simon on the opposite side of the field. He has fallen to the ground. He looks completely defeated. Unscathed, but devastated. There are tears streaming down his face.

I remember him crying out my name and I wonder whether this is his doing. Whether he somehow retracted his spell. Whether he stopped it. Whether he saved me.  
Then he looks up and he sees me alive and well and then suddenly everything seems to be happening at the same time. 

Simon looks up and all the tension seems to leave his body. He slumps even further to the ground, but it’s in a relieved way, rather than defeated. He holds my gaze as he mouths my name and I let myself smile at him. 

For a moment, I have this vision of us deciding not to fight and stopping the war. Of ending it right here and now.

I start walking towards him. I want to pick him up off the ground. I want to shake his hand and decide right here and now that we are done fighting other people’s wars. 

I start walking towards him, when halfway through The Mage, who has been standing merely a few meters away from Simon all this time, comes forward to meet me.

He raises his wand and fires.

I fight back.

##### Simon

The Mage is fighting Baz and he is losing. Any fire that Baz missed when he was battling me he is putting into the fight now. For once, it’s his anger that is tangible in the air. I want to tell him to not kill The Mage, but I realise that that would mean that The Mage would kill him and I don’t know what to feel anymore. 

There’s spells flying around everywhere and if people had been paying attention to me and Baz before, now the other mages have completely stopped fighting their own battles to watch the scene unfold.

I get distracted for a second as I feel a hand on my arm. 

Penny has crouched next to me and is checking in on me. Relief floods me. She’s alive. She’s bleeding and sweaty and she looks absolutely exhausted, but she’s alive.  
I tug on her arm and we hold each other as we watch Baz and The Mage.

It’s all I can do. I wouldn’t be able to choose between either of them. This is their battle and I hold on to Penny, wanting to hide my face in her hair so I won’t have to watch whatever tragedy is about to happen, but not being able to tear my eyes away. 

As the Mage keeps on losing ground he starts yelling at me.

“Simon, you’ve got to help me!” 

While he keeps fending Baz off, he shuffles closer to me, reaching his hand towards me. I look up at him in confusion.

“Give me your magic!” 

I blink up at him. What does he mean? I can’t just give my magic away. I don’t even know how to control it myself. How would I be able to give it to someone else to deal with?

“What do you m-“

“Just give me your hand and push, Simon, now!”

“But, Sir, I might hurt you. I don’t even kn-“

“Just do it, Simon!”

“But-“ 

“DO IT!” 

My body responds automatically and I reach out my hand, but just before I can grab The Mage’s hand Penelope drags me back. 

“Don’t, Simon.”

“I don't understand. What’s happening, Penny?”

“I don’t know, but… there’s something that’s been bothering about your magic…”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… I’ve been thinking about why the Humdrum looks like you…” 

She’s not making any sense to me and I shoot her a confused look as I feel The Mage pulling on my arm. The look on his face is manic.

“Come on, Simon! Give me your magic.” 

“I don’t know how!” 

Penny tugs my arm again and it’s like I’m a bone that two dogs are fighting over. Luckily, I see Baz has notched his attacks up a bit again, distracting The Mage from me to protect himself, so I can turn my attention back to what Penelope is trying to tell me.

“Listen, Simon,”, She almost whispers, “I think you are the one creating the holes.”

It’s like the world starts to fade as her words keep flooding my mind. 

“I don’t know how your magic works, but my father has been doing a lot of research after the holes with data of appearances and all. It seems that all of them have appeared at the same time or right after you used a lot of magic or blew completely up.”

It makes so much sense, but none at all at the same time. I’m supposed to beat the Humdrum, not _be_ him.

“Listen, Simon, I don’t know how your magic works. If the Mage thinks you can somehow give him your magic, that might be true. I don’t know how he knows that or if it _is_ actually true. But you shouldn’t toy with it. Don’t do it.”

And everything is too overwhelming. I don’t know what to believe anymore. Baz doesn’t seem like my enemy anymore. I guess he never was. Maybe I’ve been the enemy all this time. I’ve been destroying the World of Mages all this time. 

All the while Baz and The Mage keep battling and I don’t know what to do. If I help The Mage and give him my magic somehow, he would kill Baz and I might create another hole. If I don’t do anything Baz will win. The Mage keeps yelling at me to help him, Penny keeps trying to talk to me (I’m not listening anymore), the other mages keep watching. I feel my magic itching and burning and boiling. I’m losing control.

That’s when he appears.

A little boy with a red ball. A little boy that looks just like me with a wicked smile on his face.

“Hello, Simon.” 

At the sound of his voice The Mage and Baz lower their wands. Some of the mages immediately take to running away. Some take a few steps back. Some are completely frozen in place.

I try to find the right words to say. I don’t even know what I’m meant to do now. I have so many questions. About my role in this all this and the how and why.

“Wh-what are you?”, is all that I manage. 

The face of my younger self smirks back at me.

“I’m what’s left when you are done.” 

He has answered this before, but now I hear Penny’s theory through them and I know that Penny is right. This is what he meant with that answer all this time. I explode and that’s when he expands. I explode and that’s when the holes appear, and expand. Next to me, I feel Penny realise that she is right too. She tugs on my arm.

“Simon, you _cannot_ fight back. Holes only want to grow. If you attack him, you’ll feed him.”

The Humdrum flicks her a look before focussing back on me.

“She’s a clever one.”, he smirks.

He’s got me in a corner. If I attack him in any way, he’ll get more and more powerful. But who’s to say what would happen if I didn’t do anything. Will he attack us? I can’t protect any of us with my magic and no one is strong enough to defeat the Humdrum. 

Would even calling my sword take too much magic?

My hand flies to my belt, where the sword would appear if I’d call for it, but the Humdrum only giggles.

“Nuh-uh. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” 

That’s when The Mage cuts in again. He keeps demanding me to attack the Humdrum and all I can do is mutter ‘I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.’ and he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand, he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand that if I were to attack I could suck all magic out of the atmosphere. If I were to attack it wouldn’t be me who would win. 

The words are frozen in my throat and I can’t explain but he keeps on yelling at me and the Humdrum keeps on smirking at me and Penny keeps her hands on my arm to stop me from doing anything, even though she doesn’t have to. I notice Baz moving to stand more to our side. Not between me and the Humdrum, but close enough to cut in if necessary and I want to tell him to get the hell out and save himself, because I can’t protect him anymore. I can’t protect anyone anymore.

The Mage keeps yelling at me to do something and once he realises that I won’t do anything he goes back to demanding I give him my magic so that he can save the World of Mages. I can’t explain to him that I can’t and he keeps demanding and demanding. 

Because, he says, he has finally found a way to control my magic. He has finally found a way to save the World of Mages. Because, I was too weak. I wasn’t the right vessel for this kind of power. Because, I can’t handle it. He can. If I give him my magic. If I just take his hand and push.

That’s when it hits me.

Well, at least I hope it’s right. I hope it works. It’s really just a shot in the dark, but I know that it’s the only option I can think of that hopefully wouldn’t make things worse. Hopefully.

I shake Penny off and crouch forward. I can see Baz from the corner of my eye taking a step forward as if he wants to intervene. Trust me, I want to tell him and it almost seems as if he heard it, because he doesn’t come any closer.

Once I’m close enough to the Humdrum, I grab his shoulders and look in the eyes that are so much like mine. His smirk has grown into a full evil grin as he registers my desperation.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper. 

I push.

##### Penelope

At first, the Humdrum looks confused, but then this understanding look settles on his face and, weirdly enough, so, so much peace. The grin on his face disappears and he nods at Simon. I can’t see Simon’s face, but he seems to get the encouragement and keeps doing whatever it is that he is doing.

The Mage is trying to tear the two of them apart, but his hands cannot seem to get a hold on the Humdrum, until his hands even fall right through him. Whatever it is that is happening, it’s happening faster and faster now. I can feel it in the air. At first, there was this strain in the air. This incredible power that was being pushed and pulled. Now the air just seems to fill up. 

And the Insidious Humdrum fades more and more and more.

And then it’s Simon that The Mage is clutching. He is shaking him, trying to get Simon to look at him, but Simon is frozen in place, completely grounded and focused. A final burst shoots through the air and then Simon falls to the ground and doesn’t get up. 

“What have you done?”, The Mage keeps on shouting as he grabs at Simon, beats him. 

I get up to throw the Mage off, but Baz beats me to it. He swings his arms around the Mage’s chest, hurling him off Simon. 

For a second, it looks as if Baz is going to bite, but Simon’s “NO” is enough for him to stop. The Mage throws him off and launches himself back at Simon. He’s pointing his wand at Simon’s chest and I know I have to do something. 

“Give it to me!”, The Mage keeps poking and beating at Simon, but by now Simon has started crying and he keeps on repeating the same thing. I can feel his despair seeping through my bones.

“It’s gone, it’s gone, it’s gone.” 

That only makes the Mage angrier and angrier. Baz has mixed himself into the fight again and keeps on pulling at the Mage to get him off Simon. 

“Stop!” Simon cries, “It’s over. It’s gone. Please, just stop!” 

No one is listening to him. No one is paying attention to his words. The Mage is completely blinded by his greed and Baz is completely focussed on trying to get the Mage away. Most of the other Mages fled the scene as soon as the Humdrum appeared and the rest is frozen to their spots. 

Simon is crying for everything to stop and nobody is listening to him. And they should be listening to him. That is why I raise my ring hand and speak with a loud and clear voice:

“ **Simon Says** ”

Simon’s next words are cried out, drenched in magic.

“ **Stop it, stop hurting me!** ”

##### Baz

The Mage’s body goes limp in my arms and in a reflex, I let him fall to the ground. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know whether he is dead or whether he is just knocked out and will come around later. I just know that I need to make sure that Simon is okay.

So, I let go off the Mage and crouch over to where Simon is on the ground and I try to get him to look at me. He is still making himself as small as possible, probably expecting more hits and more yelling and more pain. I need to know that he is alright. That he is save and alive. 

I hold his shoulder with one hand and lift his chin with the other. When he looks up I can see this millisecond of relief washing over him, but then he looks just a bit to the side and sees the Mage lying on the ground. Who I see, as I follow Simon’s gaze, is lifeless.

“What have I done?” He whispers, panicking. “I killed him. I killed the Mage.” 

And I feel him slipping through my fingers as he falls back to the ground, weeping. 

“I killed the Mage. What did I do? I didn’t mean to kill him.” 

He keeps on mumbling and crying and panicking and I don’t know what to do. I hesitatingly put my hand on his shoulder and he turns and clutches to me, crying into my chest. I know I shouldn’t react this way, but my heart can’t help but jump just the slightest as I rub circles into his back.

Over his shoulder I can see Bunce watching us, frozen to her place. With my eyes, I beckon her closer. He needs her. Thankfully, this is all she needs to get moving and soon she is beside us on the ground, holding onto Simon for dear life as he keeps on mumbling and crying. 

Just as Simon seems to calm down just the slightest and his breathing has evened out, this protective sphere that Bunce and I created is interrupted.

“Basilton,” I hear my father’s voice say, “Step aside.”

##### Penelope

Over Baz’s shoulder I see his father standing a couple of feet away from us. Baz freezes at hearing his voice and I can feel my heartrate picking up again. This is not good.

I want to tell Baz to stay here, but he softly takes Simon’s arms, that are wrapped around his chest, and pulls him off him, before guiding Simon to hold onto me. Then he rises to his feet, but instead of stepping aside or joining his father, he stays right in front of us, right in the line of fire.

His voice is cold and controlled when he speaks.

“Why, father?” 

“Because, we have to finish this war, Basilton.”, his father’s voice is drenched with anger in a stark contrast with Baz’s as he keeps his voice void of emotion.

“The Mage is dead, father, you have already won the war.”

“That boy is the Mage’s Heir. This war is not over.”

“He is just a boy.”

“He is the Insidious Humdrum.”

“He just defeated the Insidious Humdrum.”

“He will take over if we don’t kill him now.”

“You’ll first have to kill me.”

Mr. Grimm raises his wand.

“I know plenty spells to knock you out without killing you and you know it,” he says. “Don’t try me.”

That’s when Baz raises his hand, wandless. With a flick of his fingers a burst of flames erupts in the palm of his hand. He brings his other hand close to it. From a distance, it probably just looks like he is cupping the flame that he could use to attack his father. From here, I can see Baz inching his own thumb closer to the flame. From here, I can see that this is a different kind of threat.

“Don’t. Try. _Me_.”

##### Baz

My words are venomous and I see my father’s face turns bleaker than my skin has ever been. For a second, I see him hesitate. I see him run the possibility of me bluffing through his mind. I can almost hear him think that in no way a Pitch would give up their life for anyone. 

But I’m highly flammable and as soon as my father meets my eyes I can see him realising what I already know. I will let the flames catch me, if that is what it takes to stop him.  
My father takes one step closer, but his gaze is no longer determined, but hesitating. I answer him by turning my hand a bit to shift the fire closer to my other hand.

“Baz,” I hear Simon choke out behind me, voice raw from the tears, “Don’t.” 

I want to turn around and take him back into my arms, but I can’t. I have to finish this. 

My father has lowered his wand, but I won’t put out the flames until this is all truly over.

“Listen, father, you are going to go home. The Mage is dead; you won the war. Congratulations. Go home. The Coven will convene and figure out what to do next. With the World of Mages, with Watford and with Simon Snow.”

He huffs, but when I let the fire in my palm light up a bit more he turns around and stomps away. Apparently, he really does care more about keeping my mother’s legacy alive than killing Simon. 

As he leaves the field, he orders the remaining members of The Old Families to follow him, probably promising them a celebration or whatever. A few of them remain on the field, though. One of whom is, of course, Mrs. Bunce. 

Once my father is out of sight, I let the flames die and turn to Mrs. Bunce. This time, when I speak, all I can hear in my voice is exhaustion.

“I think Simon and Penelope could do with a warm bed and some food.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, so that was chapter two! Somebody please give all of them a hug? They need it really badly!
> 
> Also, please let me know what you thought! I was so happy to read all the comments on the previous chapters. You're all absolute angels.


	3. Chapter Three: And The Ground Never Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz defends Simon Snow and Penelope Bunce in front of the Coven while Penny, Simon and Baz himself look back on the aftermath of the battle.

#### At the Coven

##### Baz’s Speech

“Mages, witnesses, Coven. My name is Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch and I am here as a primary witness to the proceedings the day of the battle in which the Mage died. I have a story to tell that is going to take quite a while and I’m hoping you will lend me your ears and refrain from reacting before I have finished the story.

Thank you.

Now, one of my favourite playwrights, William Shakespeare, once wrote: ‘The evil men do lives after them. The good is oft interred with their bones.’

‘So let it be with Caesar.’, he let Marc Antony speak at Caesar’s funeral.

So let it be with the Mage.

It’s actually a bit ironic to quote a man defending a tyrant, while I am here to do the exact opposite. However, while the Romans were aware of Caesars many ‘grievous faults’, the Mage’s have never been known. However, you cannot make a well-informed decision on Simon Snow and Penelope Bunce’s role in his death without knowing them.

Which is why I am here to tell you the truth about the Mage. The truth about the battle, the truth about the past seven years and the truth about way before that.”

\- - - - -

#### The Aftermath

##### Penelope

Baz only stayed with us for one night. I don’t think he even planned to stay in the first place, but Simon wouldn’t leave him behind. Even though I still didn’t trust him, I have to say I also wasn’t too keen on having him be on his own after showing, in various ways, how little regard he has for his own life.

Mom wasn’t exactly happy to have a Pitch, or Simon, really, staying in our house, but she dealt with it fine. She drove us home (I realise that arriving to a magickal war with a car sounds pretty anti-climactic, but in the aftermath, it has proven to be very convenient), but I don’t think any of us stayed awake to witness the journey. Simon had fallen asleep in my arms quickly after Baz had let the flames die out. Once Baz and I had carried him to the car (Actually, Baz took him in his arms bridal style, but I couldn’t bring myself to completely let go of Simon, so I held onto his hand the whole way), the both of us passed out not minutes later.

I do remember asking one question, hushed, so that my mother wouldn’t hear:

“Have you ever bitten a person?”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Baz look so disgusted and mostly hurt. There was so much pain and guilt in his expression, that I believed him when he shook his head. He would never bite another human or mage. I guess that was enough for me.

Once we got home, Mum tried stuffing us with food, but even Simon wouldn’t eat. Baz went out ‘for a walk’, but I couldn’t even be bothered by the whole bloodsucking thing anymore. When he returned, we all sat silently around the table, staring into nothing. Simon just kept nodding off and crying in silence until Mum shooed us to bed. Baz made to find a place on the couch, but Simon reached his hand out to Baz and so he silently followed us upstairs to my room.

I still didn’t trust Baz one bit, -I’m not sure if I ever really will-, but if this was what Simon wanted, then I would go along with it. 

The three of us fell asleep the second we hit the sheets, not even having bothered to change our clothes. 

When I woke up the next morning Simon was still asleep next to me, and Baz was gone.

\- - - - -

#### At the Coven

##### Baz's Speech

“You see, Simon Snow has been a mystery to all of us. I’ve spent seven and a half years living in the same room and even I had never uncovered the great enigma that he is.

We have always been wondering so many things about him. Is he an actual mage? For we all know that mages do not leave their children behind. Where did he come from? Is he really the Chosen One? Even if he is the Chosen One, will he be able to control his magic and save us?

During the battle, a few weeks ago, Simon Snow has displayed one of the most miraculous uses of power. He shared it. He pushed it inside the Humdrum until it disappeared. We haven’t had any attacks or new holes ever since. He hasn’t had magic ever since.”

\- - - - -

#### The Aftermath

##### Simon Snow

I kept a new list in my head called ‘Things I Might Never See Again’:  
1\. My Magic  
2\. The Mage  
3\. Watford  
4\. The Humdrum  
5\. Baz

Even though there were numbers, the order did not really matter. Some things I was sad about; some things I was happy about. Most things I didn’t even know anymore of how I felt about them.

Me and Penny were placed under house arrest by the Coven. We would get trials to decide on whether we’re murderers or not. Even I don’t know, really. 

Penny got the opportunity to sit out her house arrest at Watford, so that she could finish her final year. At first, she refused to go. She didn’t want to leave me and I was grateful for that. However, merely three weeks after the battle, I already saw the tension eating at her. She needed the distraction and I figured it might be good to not have as much magic around, so I told her to go. 

We got into a fight over it that lasted two days. Eventually, I won, and she went.

\- - - - -

#### At the Coven

##### Baz's Speech

“After the battle, I invested all my spare time in figuring out what had happened. I went to seek out all the questions we have always had about Simon Snow and the Insidious Humdrum, and all the questions I’ve always had about the Mage. It has been a shame to learn what I have learned about this man. 

I know that there are a few people in this room that I would like to shield from this truth. But it needs to be out there. 

I’m sorry.

After I returned to school I longed to go back to my mother’s old office. After she died and the Mage took over, I had never been allowed to go there, but it was the place I grew up. This was the place where I played and read books while my mother worked. The place where she would teach me my first Latin words and let me practice my first spells. This place had been my home before she died during the Watford Attack.

While I was reliving all my memories there, and, admittedly, snooping around a bit, I found this bright red leather booklet. I have it here with me and I’ll let you read through it after I finish speaking if you’d like to.

For now, I’ll just give you a quick summary of everything that I discovered through this booklet.

Because this has been the Mage’s diary for the past twenty years.”

\- - - - -

#### The Aftermath

##### Baz

When I returned to Watford this time, there was no **Sesame Open** -ing the door. I’d always dreamed of making a dramatic entrance like that, but now I didn’t exactly feel like grabbing my chance. Instead, I tried to make myself as small as possible. Of course, however, Niall and Dev noticed my entrance anyway, although they seemed to be the only ones.

In mere seconds, they were in my face, yelling at me for ruining their childhood. I couldn’t even bring myself to react. I just looked back at them, spine straightened, until they stormed off. When I looked up to watch the rest of the dining hall, everyone was staring at me. I had nowhere to go, no one to sit with. It felt like I was in a completely new world with no familiar face. Perhaps this was what it had been like for Simon when he first got here.

My eyes instinctively searched for the quiet, empty tables on the sides rather than the crowded ones that I’d been used to. This was where I met Bunce’s gaze. She was on her own, too, and after a few seconds of silent staring she nodded at me to invite me over.

When I sat opposite her, at first, we remained quiet for a few minutes, picking at our food. I actually started when she finally spoke up: 

“Agatha left.”, she said, “I don’t really know why, but she is in California now. Something about her being done with magic after what happened.”

She tried to keep her voice neutral, but I could still hear the same bitterness in her voice as she said the words as the bitterness I felt as I heard them. Wellbelove just left Simon here to rot. I may not have liked her in any way; Simon needed her. She left him.

“I see your friends have deserted you, too.”, she then stated.

“I think it might have been _me_ who deserted _them_.”

“I guess.”

“Not that you would complain.” She considered me for a moment.

“No, not that I would complain.”

Since then we would always sit together. Usually, it’d be in silence. That first day I asked her how Simon was doing and I learned that his magic was truly gone. I had been thinking that maybe in this scenario, with the Mage dead, but Simon himself still alive, he might have been the big winner after all. Now, it turned out that perhaps he had had the greatest loss in the end, anyway. 

After the first trial, it turned out that it wouldn’t be as easy as hoped to get Bunce and Snow proven innocent. There were not a lot of witnesses left when the Mage died. Most of the mages had already fled when the Humdrum showed up, and anyone who had remained, was too far away to really see everything that happened.

Not that they admitted that. Every witness seemed to have their own agenda. Some were from the Mage’s side and grieving. They lost the man who was their ultimate hero and they needed someone to blame. Others were from the Family’s side. Even though they were jubilant about the Mage’s death, they were still seeking for more blood. Especially, if it was the Mage’s Heir’s blood. 

Or course, there were people who spoke the truth. This truth, however, usually came down to: “I was too far away to see what happened.” 

After the first trial, Bunce and I permanently left our competition on grades behind us. Instead we focussed all our energy on finding out what exactly had happened the day of the battle and everything before that. We read forbidden history books, we scanned every inch of my mother’s old office, we glued together and took apart the story over and over until the plot finally made sense again. Until all the puzzle pieces found their rightful place, with the help of The Mage’s diary, to show us the picture of a gruesome reality.

That is when we started writing the speech.

\- - - - -

#### At the Coven

##### Simon

It takes Baz another hour to explain tell the Coven everything that is in the diary. And I mean everything. 

He doesn’t tell the story in chronological order. Penny told me it’s because it takes away the whole climax of the story. So, he starts with how the Mage has orchestrated the attack of the vampires on the nursery. How it is his fault that Baz’s mother has died. I can tell Baz is still hurt (obviously, why wouldn’t he be) by the furious look on his face. Somehow, he manages to suppress his anger and my heart aches for him.

He continues his story with a summary of the past eight years living with me. All the times that the Mage has taken me away for missions. All the times he said ‘emotionally abusive’ things. All the times he has ‘used me as a weapon’.

Penny has prepared me for all that Baz would say, so I manage to mostly keep myself together during the hearing. Maybe I will never truly _feel_ how awful the Mage used to be, even though I rationally do understand it now. Hearing it will never stop hurting.

Then, Baz continues to tell about what happened at the battle. He tells about how the Mage fought with him and how the Mage kept demanding of me to share my power with him, even though I had no idea what he was talking about. He then tells about the Humdrum showing up, wearing my face, and me sharing my magic with the Humdrum. Pushing all of it into him, until none was left for me. 

“How did the Mage know that Simon Snow could share his magic?”

Always Baz with the rhetorical questions. 

From here on in he plunges into the whole beginning part of the diary. The part with the endless analyses of the Prophecy. The part where the Mage set up his plan, where he described every little detail of the execution of it. The part where he describes impregnating my mother and performing a ritual on her to make sure that I would be the Chosen One.

“These are the evil things the Mage has done, for which he would not have been remembered. He desired power so much, that he created the one who would bring the World of Mages down. He willingly experimented on Simon Snow and made him not the Chosen One, but the one to bring our destruction. He manipulated and used him for his own gains for almost eight years.

“That day on the battlefield, after Simon Snow sacrificed everything to save our world, he asked for the Mage to stop hurting him. At that moment, it seemed like a call for the Mage to stop hitting and pulling at him at that very moment and I am convinced that that had always been Simon Snow’s intention.

“Maybe we did now know at that moment what evil the Mage has done, but I think the universe did. I think that the universe understood that the only way the Mage could stop hurting Simon Snow was by dying.”

I thought I could hear this all again without breaking, but as Baz speaks, and the eyes of the audience turn to me rather than him, I can feel the tears well up again. He was my father, and the only way he could stop hurting me was by not existing at all.

For the first time during his entire speech, Baz turns to look at me. He looks composed again, but there is this sadness in his eyes that he can no longer hide from me and he knows it. He doesn’t try anymore and as much as I hate that it’s there, I try to hold on to this one piece of him that I get as tightly as I can.

He pauses for a second to fix my eyes and then nods slightly at me before continuing. 

“Simon Snow is a good person. Maybe even the best in the World of Mages. I would not say this without reason. This boy has lived solely in care homes for eleven years before finding out that he could use magic. He has been abandoned from the very beginning and has always had every reason to say ‘fuck you’ to the entire world for treating him so awfully.

“Instead, when he found out about our world, the world that abandoned him, and his role in saving this world, he took the entire weight of it on his shoulders. He did every assignment the Mage gave him, he studied harder than anyone at Watford, because even magic itself betrayed him. He put his life on the line countless of times for our ungrateful arses.”

It’s hard to tell whether the offended murmurs in the room are because of the swearing or because of the meaning of his words. Probably both.

“You might say that maybe he somehow found out about all the evil the Mage has done, and that he willingly killed the Mage, but Simon Snow would never willingly kill anyone. I know this, because I am standing here.

“Simon Snow and I have been enemies for almost eight years. When we met, he greeted me with the warmest smile I’d ever seen and I told him off. I have bullied and challenged him for years and years and years for no reason other than that our ‘families’ are enemies. We could have been friends, but, instead, I taunted him at every chance I got. I said and did unspeakable things to him and I regret every single one of them.

“Simon Snow had every reason to kill me. We have always known that it would come to this. To a final battle to the death. When it came, I knew that I was done being this prop in the Old Families and the Mage’s war. I was only willing to take it this far. So, I didn’t resist, I didn’t attack. 

“That day on the battle field, Simon Snow could have killed me. He almost did. The spell had already left him, but he pulled it back by sheer force of will. He saved me from himself, because Simon Snow is not a murderer. Simon and I have been enemies for eight years. The Mage has been his father figure for eight years. If Simon Snow could not willingly kill his longest enemy, he could not have willingly killed the first person who seemed to care for him.”

The entire room stays dead silent for a while. Only when Baz takes a step back does the Coven realise that he is done speaking. They all look uncomfortably at each other until finally one of them speaks up.

“Thank you, Mr. Grimm-Pitch.”

Baz only nods in response, his eyes challenging the mage to argue his point. The mage turns to another and another and another Coven member, but all of them seem dumbfounded. One of them has taken the diary of the Mage that Baz has offered them and thumbs through it.

She pauses at some pages in the book, reads a bit, and then continues thumbing through it. The rest of us watches her and the other members of the Coven shift and mumble and panic.

Then, suddenly, the mage’s fingers halt in her reading on a page. She looks up and coughs a bit. Everyone turns to her and the suffocating silence returns to the court room.

“Mr. Grimm-Pitch, you have suggested that Mr. Snow has never been the Chosen One. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“However, the Prophecy clearly states that there is in fact a Chosen One.”

“That is correct.”

“If I understand correctly from your story, that day on the battle field no one has brought Mr. Snow’s fall, even though the Prophecy clearly states that one will bring his fall.”

“Simon Snow has not fallen on the battle field indeed.”

“The Insidious Humdrum, or that part of Mr. Snow, is already gone. If this story you’re telling is correct, no one has brought his fall. The Prophecy is pretty clear about the role of the Chosen One, therefore your theory can in no way be correct.”

“I understand your confusion, Mrs, but it actually makes a lot of sense.”

“Please explain then, Mr. Pitch.”

“Simon Snow has fallen way before the battle that day even started.”

“Then how do you suggest that happened?”

The entire room is on edge. Penny didn’t discuss this with me and considering the look on her face, she also had not thought of this. 

I can only hope that Baz truly has a good response to this question, but somehow I completely trust him to save us. So, when Baz, for only the second time today, turns to look at me, I meet his gaze and nod at him. _You got this_ , I try to tell him. _Fight back_.

As if he has heard me, I see some of the tension in his shoulders releasing. I see a small smile appearing. At first, I think it is a happy smile, but when I look closer, I see the bitter sadness taking over. This smile is not as much a _thank you_ or an _I got you_ as it is a _goodbye_.

“The one who has brought the fall of Simon Snow and the Insidious Humdrum…”

He pauses to shift his gaze to look directly into the eyes of the mage.

“… is the one he has fallen in love with.”

\- - - - -

#### The Aftermath

##### Penelope

It was the first day Baz came back. Breakfast was mostly quiet, but we both had things to say and questions to ask.

I started asking him why he had done what he did for Simon, but I didn’t get further than a few words:

“Baz, why did y-“

“How is Simon?” 

I considered the desperate look in his eyes for a second. He looked down at his plate again, avoiding my eyes.

“Sorry, I interrupted you. What did you want to ask?”

“Never mind…”, I paused for a second, thinking. “I think you just answered by question.”

“Excuse me, what?”

“Merlin, this is all starting to make so much sense…”

“Crowley, Bunce, what are you talking about?”

I hear the frustration and fear simmering in his voice and I take a second to go over every thought, every memory, every conversation of the past seven years. It makes so much sense.

“You are in love with him.”

I look him defiantly in the eyes and I see a panicked look flashing by before his gaze hardens.

“I am not in love with _Snow_.”

I smirk.

“You called him Simon before.”

\- - - - -

#### At the Coven

##### Baz

We win the trial. Bunce and Snow are free to go and none of us will get any punishment. Well… at least not from the Coven.

Needless to say, I don’t think my father will be accepting me back in the house for quite some time, if ever. I’m still the monster I’ve always been. A monster that never should have even stayed alive if it were up to my mother. I didn’t tell the Coven about that. Or anyone, for that matter. I have to carry that burden alone. I am not sure I will.

Simon lost everything. His magic was the only thing that got him out of the care homes. Watford was the one place he could call home. The Mage may have been his biggest enemy in the end, but he was his father nonetheless. The person he had looked up to and who had shown him a whole new world. Snow had been a monster as well. It may not have been his fault, but it was still his burden to bear. I wonder whether he will.

We survived the battle and we won the trial. We’re still the losers of all this. We survived, but what for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, so that was the third chapter! I'm sorry for not keeping stuff as intense as the previous two chapters. I hope you enjoyed it anyway :)
> 
> I feel like Baz would kick ass at speeching, but, although I absolutely love writing complicated and cool speeches, I felt it would make more sense for Baz to just tell the story rather than use all kinds of stupid analogies and God knows what. Because I can not help myself I still made Baz reference Shakespeare in the beginning. To read Marcus Antonius' speech at Caesar's funeral, you can look here: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/56968
> 
> One of my lovely readers has asked me to post a translation of the lyrics of the song I based the fic on (you can find the song here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zwK3n09hSFg), so I will post those once I posted the story itself in its entirety.
> 
> The pause between this chapter and the next will be shorter than between this one and the last one!
> 
> Lastly, please let me know what you thought! I absolutely love reading your comments :)


	4. Chapter Four: But You Know What You've Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now. Baz and Simon talk.
> 
> Trigger warnings: Listen, this chapter is really fucked up angsty and I'm sorry. There's also suicidal thoughts and like a sort of, spur of the moment, half-attempt at suicide. It's comparable to the forest scene in its nature (so using fire and not anything bloody and also relatively spontaneous rather than thought out), but it's a lot longer and angstier and more explicit. So if you're triggered by these things, please be careful or don't read it at all.

#### Now

##### Baz

“Baz.”

For a second his eyes light up before quickly dying out again. 

“Simon.”

It comes out as more of a breath than an actual word. 

Instinctively, it seems, Snow rises to his feet, but halts at that. We remain like this, looking at each other, frozen.

I haven’t seen Simon in more than two months. I haven’t seen him since the day we won the trial. Although, I didn’t really see him at the trial either. I avoided his gaze as if my life depended on it. Maybe it did.

It might have been the hardest thing I’ve ever done and standing here, seeing him standing here before me, it feels like the world has been lifted off my shoulders. Even though there is this unfamiliar and void look in his eyes, he is still Simon Snow. 

It hurts to see him without his usual joy and spirit, but I know it will come back. It must. He may have lost a lot already, but I won’t let him lose that, too. Not that there’s much I could do about it. So, I’ll just hope.

After a few more moments of staring, Snow clears his throat.

“Baz,” he says again, “Hi.”

“Snow.”, I reply.

He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. A helpless sigh escapes and he bows his head, before looking back up again.

“Sit down,” he starts, before adding a soft “please”.

My instincts scream at me to bite something back at him about doing whatever the hell I want, but I know it’s not the right moment (as if it ever was) and nod silently before walking over to my bed and sitting down. Simon moves to sit across from me on his own bed.

Snow seems to be struggling for words again, so I decide to start the conversation.

“Why are you here?”, it sounds more antagonistic than I mean it to, but Snow ignores it.

“I needed to get the last of my stuff before Watford closes for the summer.”, he says.

“You couldn’t get the Bunces to do that for you?” I’m not even surprised anymore at my own instinctively snarky tone, but while I’m panicking inside, Snow ignores it yet again.

“I also wanted to talk to you.” He says, and all I manage is raise an eyebrow in response. 

Instead of continuing to actually say what he apparently has to say to me, Snow seems to kind of zone out, staring right through me. The void in his eyes terrifies me. 

After a few moments, I decide he needs to snap out of it. I hope the Bunces rarely let him out of their sight if this tends to happen every few minutes.

When I cough softly I can see his eyes focussing again and some of him flooding back into them.

##### Simon

“So,” Baz snaps me out of my usual daze, “what is it you wanted to talk about.”

I can hear that he is trying to go for a mocking voice, he has even quirked his eyebrow in his usual spotting manner, but all of it falls flat. We’re just too tired for this. I think we might have been for quite some time, even before the battle. I guess I never recognised our mutual exhaustion, blinded by my own paranoia.

But I’ve done some thinking on my walks, so instead of taking his half-hearted bait, I give Baz a small smile.

“I wanted to thank you.” That surprises him.

“Okay.” He breaks our gaze, fidgeting with the bottom of his uniform jacket. I’ve never seen him so uncomfortable. I ought to just get my stuff now and get out, but I know that there is more to say and more to do. Crowley, I’ve been so blind.

“Baz,” I say, “look at me, please.”

When he doesn’t respond, I get up from my bed and crouch on the floor in front of him, forcing him to look at me.

“Thank you,” I hold his gaze, daring him not to let mine go, “for everything.”

It feels like I’ve been waiting for his response for ages, keeping our eyes locked, when he finally manages to choke back the tears that were welling up and nod slightly. 

And then, because I’ve missed him such an awful lot, I bring my hand up to push a string of his hair behind his ear before softly cupping his cheek. And, because I’ve missed him such an awful lot, I marvel at the way his eyes close, eyebrows furrowed, as he leans into my touch. Because I’ve missed him such an awful lot, I lean forward to rest my own forehead against his and let my eyes close, concentrating solely on our breaths mingling. With my eyes closed, I see him again, standing in the field, opposite me, his eyes void and resigned. Sad. A silent goodbye. A silent declaration. With every breath I take, I try to, hope to, lift some of it all off his back. With every breath I release, I try to, hope to, pass over everything that goes unsaid.

We’re both so broken. Forced enemies. So alike.

##### Baz

With Snow here, touching my cheek, his forehead pressing against mine, it really hits me how much I’ve missed him. It’s not like we ever used to talk about our problems. He was never someone I could rant to, lift some of the weight off my shoulders. But his presence was always familiar and comforting in its own way. Knowing he was alive and just a few steps away.

I wouldn’t admit it to her face, but having Bunce here definitely helped. It was, however, nothing in comparison to how comforting it is to have him here right now. I know that, if I’d open my eyes, I’d be able to count his moles again.

Even though he is completely silent, I can feel everything he’s trying to say. I know he means well, but his gratefulness weighs me down. I don’t understand it. I don’t deserve it. What I did made sense. It was nothing extraordinary. Nothing to deserve this.

Everything he’s trying to say weighs me down. His gratitude and love press on my skin and make me feel dizzy. Instead of feeling relieved, I feel guilty. How could I deserve any of this? Doesn’t he know that I’m a monster? Doesn’t he know that what I did was selfish? 

This should not be happening to me.

So, when he leans in, his nose softly bumping mine, I turn my head away.

##### Simon

One second, all my senses are filled with Baz. I feel him, foreheads pressed together and noses brushing softly. I hear him, uneven breaths and the faint pounding of his heart (he does have one!). I see him, through heavy-lidded eyes, I see his frown and his lips. I smell him, cedar and bergamot. The next second, when I lean in to taste him as well, he moves away and in the span of barely a moment my hands are empty and the air around me is cold.

Once I open my eyes again Baz is standing by the window. The moonlight shining through makes his skin seem even paler and it sparkles where it reflects in the thin path a tear has carved down his cheek.

For a moment, my heart sinks and the world feels so big, while I feel so small. Maybe I saw it all wrong. Maybe it was merely a trick of the light that made it appear like the look on his face, when I finally lost control over my magic and almost killed him, was one of love. Maybe all the conclusions I drew from his protectiveness over me during and after the battle were all wrong. Maybe this thing is one-sided after all. Maybe truly all I do is losing. 

But then I remember how everything suddenly fell into place. Once I deciphered that one look, I deciphered the many looks before that. Which helped me decipher all his actions and all my actions and all his words and all my words. Everything fell into place and nothing has ever felt more instinctive than this. I can never truly rationalise why we are the way we are and why we work the way we work. We just are. We just work.

We would, at least. If he’d let us try. 

“Baz,” I start, standing up. I walk over to him and move to thread my fingers through his. His fingers freeze beneath mine and he pulls away.

“Just- just don’t,” he sneers. The “please” that follows is desperate and painful and barely audible. I pull my hand back and step out of his space, sitting down on the edge of Baz’s bed.

I wish I knew what he was thinking.

##### Baz

I don’t know what I’m thinking.

I have wanted this for years. Fifth-year me would probably kick me in the balls if he were here. The amounts of time I spent imagining him leaning in, imagining his fingers reaching out for mine. And now my imagination is turning to reality and I cannot stop sabotaging myself.

“Why?” Snow echoes my own thoughts. And, for once, out of the two of us, it’s me who explodes.

“Are you seriously that stupid?” Initially, I turn around to spit it right in his face, but when I see him sitting there on the edge of my bed looking like a lost puppy, I have to turn back to the window to be able to continue.

“Why don’t you-,” I start, but stumble. Why does the truth never come out fluently? Have I become that used to lying? I growl in frustration.

“Why don’t you understand that you’re wrong about this? You’re not supposed to thank me.”

“You saved my life at least three times.” He sounds surprised.

“And now you’ve lost your magic.”

“Yes,” there is a pause for a second, “but I’m alive. And that is still more than I had ever hoped for and I got to because of you.”

“But,” Crowley, I need him to stop saying these things, “you’ve lost your magic.”

“A sacrifice I was willing to make for my life and your life and everyone else’s life. That was my choice! That was not your fault.”

“Simon, please stop.”

“Baz, you saved my life. I cannot even imagine the consequences for your own. You deserve at least a thank you for that.”

“ _Please_ , Simon,” I hate the crack in my voice, “will you please stop talking?”

His voice is small. “No. Thank you for being there, Baz. Thank you being here. Thank you for saving me.”

“You don’t understand. I was just being selfish.”

“What made saving my life selfish?”

“I knew that I would never forgive myself for letting you die, let alone actively killing you.”

“That means you care about me.” He states, as if it is truly that simple. “How is that selfish?”

“You just don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand!” He has risen to his feet in frustration. In barely two long strides his face is mere inches away from me again, as he repeats softly, but insistently, “make me understand.”

I don’t know what gives me the strength to do it. Maybe it’s knowing that he has known for years anyway, maybe it’s knowing that nothing really matters these days anymore, maybe it’s knowing that I’m tired of hiding. 

As I pull my lips slightly back, exposing my teeth, I let my fangs pop out.

“I’m a monster, Snow.” I hiss. “Is that enough of an explanation for you?”

He shakes his head determinedly. “You are a vampire.” Correct. “I don’t see how that has anything to do with being selfish.” Wrong. It has everything to do with being selfish.

“Being a monster is selfish, Snow,” I spit, “because I’m _being_.”

He frowns at that. 

“What in Merlin’s name is that supposed to mean.”

A frustrated noise escapes my throat as I step a bit closer. 

“It means,” I say calmly, “that I should not be existing.”

That startles him and I can’t help but feel that tiny spark of victory whenever I manage to shut him up for a second. Whenever I manage to force him to be the first to look away like he does now.

I raise my hand, letting flames erupt just above. Snow’s eyes snap up. I can’t help but be glad the void has been replaced by panic and frustration.

“Baz, you’re flammable.”

“Crowley, Snow, do you think I’ve forgotten? Isn’t that the whole point of it? Don’t you get it?”

There’s also sadness in them and I feel his and mine reflected in how roughened my words sound.

“All it takes is fire. Just a tiny flame and I’m done. The one thing I’m best with _is_ fire. I should’ve been done years and years ago. And yet here I am. Alive. Or as alive as I can be. I’m a monster and I can’t even bring up the decency to end it all myself.”

I hate how the body’s reflex to stress and anger seems to be to start crying. I can’t stop myself either way.

“That’s why I’m selfish.” I avoid Snow’s eyes, trying to fix mine, “I should’ve been dead all along.”

“You cannot honestly believe you should be dead, just because you’re a vampire.” Simon says, and I can hear in every word that he truly cannot imagine believing that. It hurts.

“She believed it.” I didn’t quite expect our conversation to go here. Although, right now it feels like it was inevitable all along anyway.

“Who?”

“My mother.” That startles him. 

“What do you mean?”

I sigh and I feel the frustration leaving my body. I’m just too tired to be frustrated anymore. Of course, he doesn’t understand, if he doesn’t know the full story. I planned on keeping this piece of the diary to myself, but now I can’t anymore.

“In the diary of the Mage, he didn’t just describe planning the vampire attack. There is also a summary of the report of the attack of one of the vampires that survived.”

Simon stills. The flames are still dancing between my fingers and I ponder them for a second.

“It was her,” I say, “She did it.”

I want to avoid truly saying the words, but Simon’s confused look tells me I’ll have to, if I want to make him understand.

“She killed herself.”

He starts at that and takes a step back and I’m glad for that. After all, he is flammable, too, and I can’t help but let the fire grow as I speak. 

“She was bitten during the attack,” I explain, “She hunted vampires for years and years before the attack. So, when she was bitten, she ended it.”

I lift my hand, the light of the flames flickering in the dark between us.

“ _Tyger, tyger_.” I whisper without putting magic behind the words, my eyes fixed on the flames. I close my eyes and imagine my mother, standing in the nursery, making the decision to kill herself. She hated vampires so much, she couldn’t stand the thought of being one herself. She could stand that thought even less than the thought of leaving me behind. That’s how much she hated them.

When I open my eyes, they automatically find Simon’s and I hate to see how his face is tear-stricken, how his eyelashes have stuck together, how his bottom lip trembles. I want to spare him the conclusion of my story, but I know I need to push through.

“If she’d known,” He starts shaking his head and I’m tempted to shut up, but I don’t. “She would have taken me with her.”

“No.” Is all he mutters. “No. She loved you.”

“She did,” I say, “But she would hate me if she knew I was carrying on like this.”

“Baz, she was your _mum_.”

“Exactly! I should have made her proud by doing the right thing.”

“Dying is not the right thing.”

“ _She_ thought it was,” I say and then, “And it is.”

“That is ridiculous, Baz. Penny told me you’ve never bitten a person. You deserve to live.”

“How do you know?” My voice cracks with frustration. “How do you know I deserve _anything_? I may never have bitten a person, but who is to say I won’t? Accidents happen, Snow. I should avoid them in the only way I can.”

“Baz, please, stop.” Simon says, but I can only let the flames flare harder and higher and closer to my fingers.

“Yet, instead, I’m still here,” I didn’t know it would be possible, but my eyes avert from his to become transfixed by the fire. “And what even for?”

“For living, Baz.” And I might have lost myself in the beauty of that answer, if I’d really heard what he said. Instead, in my mind, his voice is blurred, just like his eyes, flickering gold in the light of the fire.

“My mum is dead,” I sob, instead, “I have nowhere to go, because my father won’t let me into the house.”

Snow just doesn’t understand. I know so, because somewhere in my mind I register him arguing against me, asking me to stop, demanding it when I ignore him.

“I haven’t seen my sister…,” I usually don’t even let myself think about her, “I haven’t seen my sister even once, since the battle.”

Why doesn’t he understand? There is nothing left for me here. All I had, I’ve lost.

“Fiona is letting me stay at her place, but I know I’ve disappointed her,” I picture the looks she gives me when she is too tired to pretend, “She only took me in, because I’m her sister’s only son. Crowley, if she knew what my mum would have wanted…”

I’m sure she would have taken it upon herself to end me. Why doesn’t Snow get it? Why is it so hard to understand?

“Why don’t you understand, Simon?” It’s more of a whisper, “I’m supposed to be dead.”

And through my blurred eyes I see his face shape into a whole pallet of emotions. Anger. Frustration. Sadness. Fright. Worry. And so much love. And it weighs me down. It feels like the air pressure has suddenly risen and every inch of the room is pressing into every inch of my skin. I can’t breathe.

“And now you’re here with your stupid face and you’re trying to give me everything I do not deserve and I can’t. breathe. I should be dead.”

I want to argue my point further, but all I can manage is murmur the same thing over and over again.

_I should be dead_

_I should be dead_

_I should be dead_

My fingers seem to have a mind of their own, playing with the flames. Dancing.

Only this dance is fatal and I vaguely register Simon’s panicked outbursts as I let the flames come closer and closer to licking my skin.

For one last moment, I let my gaze flicker up again and fix his blue eyes. Even though they’re red from the tears and the blue is still as ordinary as it’s always been, they are the prettiest things I’ve ever seen and they remind me of my one promise to myself. I will die looking into Simon Snow’s eyes.

As I let the flames get closer, I take in every inch of blue. Although I can still trace a hint of the void look he had in his eyes, when I entered the room, I can also see some of his usual power in them again. 

For a second, in my mind, I thank him for looking so alive while I’m dying.

I slowly move my thumbs towards the palms of my hands, where the flames are still erupting from thin air, as I lose myself in Simon Snow’s eyes. What a pity I never got to kiss him. 

“Simon…” I start, but then he lunges at me and all I can do is let the flames die out and let myself be pushed into the nearest wall.

##### Simon

“Just shut up!” I growl as I grab his wrists, pushing him into the nearest wall. I knew he would let the flames die as soon as I got too close. After all, I’m flammable too.

“I should be dead, Snow, just let it go.” He tries to hiss back at me, but there is no fire behind it. Just sobs.

He’s not exactly saying what I want to be hearing, but at least he is responding again. He hears me again.

“Stop it!” I yell, closing in on him. Wrists pressed against the wallpaper, chest to chest. From here I can see the patterns his tears have trailed down his face. Some are still going.

“I’m a monster, I’m a monster, I’m a monster.” He sobs.

“Shut up, Baz, you’re not a monster.”

“Yes, I am, I am. I should’ve been dead. I-“

“Stop it, you’re not supposed to be dead. You don’t have to die.”

“Yes, I do! She would’ve killed me. If only she’d known,” his words are bare murmurs, clouded by his tears, “she would’ve taken me with her.”

And then he’s back to murmuring the same things over and over again.

_I’m a monster._

_I should be dead._

_I’m a monster._

_I should be dead._

_I should be dead.  
I should be dead._

I feel the palms of his hands warming up again, ready to summon fire, and I need him to stop. Every word seems to drill itself into my skull. Every sob seems to rip a tear in my heart.

I need him to stop. 

So, the next time he cries out for his own death, I growl my own cry for him to shut up between my own lips pressed to his.

##### Baz

Simon Snow is kissing me.

For a second, my mind clears of everything but the desperate press of his lips against mine. For a second, I let myself feel all of it. Even now that his magic is gone, his skin still feels like it’s on fire. Maybe he’ll be the one to end me after all.

Even now, he still has my hands pressed against the wall, but his fingers have slipped in between mine, so now he’s holding them, rather than trapping them. (or maybe just trapping my palms underneath his, so I won’t light them up again)

For a second, I let myself respond. I’ve never kissed anyone (afraid I might bite), so it’s clumsy and imperfect, but it’s so good. 

For a second, I let myself forget everything. There is nothing but him and me. Just two boys kissing. So simple.

But then I remember who he is. I remember who I am, what I am. And I slip my right hand out of his grasp and place it on his chest and push him away softly.

##### Simon

His eyes are still closed when I open mine. Once he does open them, he immediately directs his gaze to the ground.

“You shouldn’t.” He whispers.

“Why not?” I counter him. His hand is still resting on my chest, so I put mine over it, slip my fingers through his. He doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t hold on either. Instead, he shakes his head. 

“I’m a monster, Snow. You deserve better than that.” I scoff at that.

“You’re not a monster, Baz,” the space between us is choking me, so I lean my forehead back against his and let my eyes close again. “Why would I want to kiss a monster?”

I feel rather than hear Baz’s chuckle. “Because of its dazzling personality?”, I can’t help but grin at that. I’m glad to hear some of his sarcastic old self. The relief is enough for me to move just the slightest bit more forward to brush my nose against his, before pulling back again.

“You’re not a monster, Baz.” I repeat, and I hope that one day he will believe me. For now, he just scoffs, before he replies.

“Tell that to all the animals I have to drain every other night in order to survive.”

“Well, I’m hardly a vegetarian either.” I scoff back at him. It’s barely audible, but I hear something akin to a chuckle through his sniffs.

“The sun burns me.”

“Don’t you remember when I returned to school after that summer the care home I lived in was near the beach and you teased me for weeks, telling me I looked like a lobster?” Now the laughter is a bit more audible. “The sun burns me, too.”

For a second there is just the sounds of sniffles washed out by soft chuckling and I can’t help but laugh with him. In the end, though, the tears always seem to come back. They always seem to win.

“Simon,” he says, “I’m technically not even alive.”

Even if the hand that’s holding his couldn’t feel his heart pounding in his chest, I’d still be able to hear it, it’s beating that fast. So, I lean in and give him another eskimo-kiss, feeling his heart accelerate yet again and I smile.

“Your heart speeding up every time I do that seems to prove otherwise.”

“Shut up.” Is all he replies.

“I think that the fact that neither of us can seems to be the reason we always end up in this position.” One backing the other into the wall. Just like the night before the battle, only we’re on opposite sides now.

Maybe it’s our own patterns that make us laugh, maybe it’s the exhaustion and the stress, or maybe it’s the relief. It takes a while before we finally stop and I revel in the feeling of laughing with him. I don’t think I’ve ever been able to do that before.

“Baz,” I whisper, once the laughter has subsided, “do you think monsters are capable of love?”

It takes a while before he reacts, but when he does, I feel him softly shake his head against mine.

“But you love your mum, right?”

He sighs deeply, defeated, before nodding slightly.

“And you definitely love your little sister. Mordelia is her name, right?”

Again, he nods. I open my eyes just the slightest to study his face through my whimpers. His eyes are still closed, but the frown between his eyebrows has loosened the slightest and I see him smiling through his tears. I can’t help but let my own lips form a smile too.

“And that crazy aunt of yours, Fiona. I know she annoys you to hell sometimes, but I bet you love her, too.”

This time he lets out a full-out laugh. It’s such a pretty sound and I almost want to hear it coming out of his mouth again and again and again as badly as I want to kiss that mouth again and again and again.

“And I think,” I start and I take a deep breath, “that you might love me.”

He stills. I can feel his heart pounding against the back of my hand as fast as I can feel my own heart beating in my chest. After a moment of deafening silence, he opens his eyes, immediately fixed on mine on instinct. I never imagined grey could be such an interesting colour.

This time his nod is accompanied with a “Yes, I do” and it makes my heart sing and my stomach flutter and my lips pull into a smile.

I hold his gaze as I flash him a satisfied grin and answer. 

“Good,’ I say, “because I love you, too.”

This time, when I kiss him, he immediately responds.

##### Baz

Simon Snow is kissing me. Again.

And he doesn’t believe I’m a monster.

Maybe one day I’ll learn to believe that myself, but for now it might be enough to know he believes it.

For now, I let myself acknowledge that in this moment I’m _living_. And right now, it’s a damn charmed life.

##### Simon

I kiss him and I kiss him and I kiss him. He keeps kissing me back.

Knowing that he probably won’t attempt to set fire to the room anymore, I let the wrist I still had pressed to the wall go, and finally let myself grip his hair. Once I acknowledged my feelings to myself, there were suddenly lists and lists unfolding in my head that had probably always been there describing everything I wanted to do to Baz. Touching his hair was very high on each and every one of them.

So, I let my hand relish in the softness of it all. My other I hand I keep tightly wrapped around his, our hands pressed between us. Mine against his chest, feeling every heartbeat going just a bit faster than usually, his against mine, undoubtedly feeling the same.

Baz’s lips are way colder than Agatha’s and at first I think it might be because he is a boy, but then I realise it’s because he is a vampire. I’m actually kissing a vampire. With fangs and highly flammable skin and probably super senses. But Baz is also just a boy and I decide that I like the cold, compensating for my own constant heat. The heat didn’t end when my magic did.

For a moment, I lose myself to the thought of my magic being gone, but then I snap myself out of it and instead concentrate on all the sounds Baz is making and lose myself in those instead.

##### Baz

By the time we break apart for air, my free hand has found its way to cup his face and I let my thumb graze the moles beneath his eye. They’re even prettier up close and I count them over and over and over.

After a few seconds, Simon opens his eyes, too. For a second, we just look at each other, and I can’t help but smile at his smile. Then, with his weight no longer holding me up against the wall, my body catches up to how overwhelmed my mind is, and my legs give out. I slide down the wall to the ground.

Luckily, Snow follows.

We sit like that for what may have been hours. Backs to the wall, leaning on each other. Crying. Tears for everything we have lost. Tears for everything we still might. Tears for everything we got to keep. And tears for everything we have gained.

When our heartbeats have slowed down again and our tears have run out, we just sit there, drowning in our own thoughts. 

For a while, that is okay, but when I remember the void look in Simon’s eyes, I know that there must be limits to this. Drowning in our own thoughts should not become actual drowning.

So, we talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pfew, so that was the last official chapter! Fun fact: I wrote most of this in the span of two months while travelling through Chile. I actually even spent a few days holed up inside instead of seeing the country because I was so inspired. Oops... 
> 
> So yeah, there will still be an epilogue after this in which Baz and Simon talk a bit, because I want them to say some stuff. If you are, however, not really into those kinds of chapters, than you could also skip it. Plotwise, nothing really happens and the story ends here. Of course, I will still post the translation of the song lyrics after I've posted the epilogue. I'll also add some comments about the lyrics, my thoughts on them, and what parts I related to the story and why.
> 
> Since I'm busy rewriting the epilogue, it might take some time before I get to posting it.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this far! Please let me know what you thought. Your comments truly keep me motivated to keep posting and make me so so happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading the first chapter! Please let me know what you thought! I hope to post a chapter each week so I'll have time finishing up the last chapter.


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